Code Pink Journals CodePINK Journals

Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! I am on my mobile version of the door-to-door, going town-to-town holding readings/gatherings/discussions of my book "But What Can I Do?" This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels since 9/11 as I engage in dialogue and actions. It is steaming with my opinions, insights, analyses toward that end of holding all life sacred, dismantling the empire and eliminating violence while creating the society we want ALL to thrive in

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Texas bullshit


I drive the rest of the way back to I10 and through Texas, maybe 50 or so miles, and go to the welcome center on the other side of the freeway. It is very small, very noisy & the visitor’s center has just closed, as it is sun down and I witness another spectacular sunset that stretches over the vastness of the western skies.

I parallel park in line with the employee parking, which seems to be just barely more secluded parking in this small lot. I confirm with the “24 hour security” guy that it is okay for me to park there, and settle in to eat my quinoa & sweet potato as I crack open Patricia Cornwell’s new book! I’m in heaven!

Shortly before midnight, and shortly after I've torn myself away from Patricia Cornwell & fallen asleep, someone bangs jarringly on my truck. Only police and military bang this way. I grrrrrr, growling who is trying to scare the shit out of me. My door is open, with the screen closed & latched, making it simple for someone to call to me – but this asshole is banging on the side of my truck like he’s splitting rocks.

It’s the new shift guard. White, blond, male, young, tattooed, buff, military stand & hair cut. I should have grabbed my siren and blared it into his face, but I tell him he didn’t have to bang like that. He claims I’m blocking traffic, tells me he needs me to move. NOW. 

When I point out I am in a legitimate - and security guard sanctioned - space, he protests tractor trailers are going to be coming in soon and will need to pull out early in the morning. He claims I’m in the way.

I’m in a legitimate parking place, I reiterate. A dark place, quiet as can be in this funky rest stop. I go to the bathroom. On my way back I point out to him his mistake: 18 wheelers can easily pass by me – if they can’t, they shouldn’t be driving.

He insists I move; I insist I will stay, rest for a few more hours & then move. He swaggers over & attempts to tower over me, which isn’t so difficult as he’s most likely 5’9 or 10”. Then he threatens to call the police on me. 

Really dude?

I continue to my truck, read so I can return to sleep. He comes once again to attempt to get me to move, with a flashlight this time, that he attempts to shine into my camper, my eyes.

I have my own flashlight I shine thru the screen door into his face. I tell him as politely as I’m able to muster after being rudely awaken at almost midnite and ordered by some twerp with a badge to move, that I will move in a few hours when I’m ready. He threatens the police again & I tell him I welcome them, as he is harassing me and I'd love to report his harassment to someone here in Texas.

I read until after 3am, sans police, and then hit the road. I go just a few miles across the texas border to the beautiful Louisiana welcome center, which is deserted and very quiet & I wish I would have come here in the first place! grrrr



Texas bayou


We leave the texas rest stop, just barely west of Houston, by 6am, still having to drive 80 miles to Jess’s home. Jess is REALLY wanting to get home.

After dropping Jess off at Home Depot, where her beautiful & very young-looking Mom picks her & her stuff up - as Jess doesn’t want her friends to know she has returned to Houston - I try to connect again with the Tar Sands folks.

I have gotten another email from them finally, asking me who I am & how I’ve heard of them. Hmmmm. This is confusing as they have a website, where I got their email address from, and this action has been on the news all over the country, at least those who read Common Dreams and listen to Amy Goodman, Democracy Now.

I write back with much too much detail about who I am, I’m sure, and let them know I will hook up with them in a month or so.

I finish “Saving Grace” as I drive, and begin another amazing book on cd “Plague of Doves”.

By noon, I see the Anahuac Wildlife Reserve & decide to visit. I get a map from the nice rangers who have the thickest southern accents but fall over themselves trying to be polite to me.

I spend the rest of the day exploring the Reserve, where I do get rare & extremely quick glimpses of alligators, but only the tips of their noses and bulging eyes before they sink under the water again never to reappear within my eye site.

I am glad I read recently the truth about alligators, that they, like the California Black Bears, do not attack humans (unless of course they are being provoked or aggressively attacked themselves)

I follow the map & hike several of the trails through the bayous & marvel at the strange trees, slurping waters, and hundreds of egrets, ducks, other water fowl I can’t name.

The wind caresses the tall reeds sticking up from the shallow water ways and sways the thin branches of low bushes and the occasional tall clump of trees. Insects add their own melody and the absence of man-made sound is so resoundingly beautiful.

And then of course, standing really still and listening carefully, I hear the occasional gurgling splash of an alligator slipping into the water.

The skies are the brightest blues with fluffy clouds swelling to spot the horizon.

And I feel so very fortunate to bask in the Texas bayou country!

Hi Cal Arms Expo?

I'm rubbing my eyes, trying to clear my vision.

Do you know those black state road signs with the orange lights that tell people things like "accident ahead, right lane closed" or "10 minutes to airport, 15 minutes to downtown" etc.

Well, in Houston the sign reads: "Hi Cal Arms Expo" and the place. It's incredible - I see about 5 or 6 of them as I traverse I10 to get out of Houston.